


Nascent Jayus

by MooseKababs



Series: Jayus [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent imagery (canon compliant)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 05:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12549852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKababs/pseuds/MooseKababs
Summary: Starscream heads to his favorite perch in New Iacon after a long day of work, and ends up saving a life.





	Nascent Jayus

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter of Jayus has been posted individually, so that anyone sensitive to it's subjects can still read the rest of the fanfiction (something I'm very proud of despite it being entirely self-indulgent) without being upset by it.

Starscream strode out of the doors of the Citadel in a huff, ignoring those around him as usual as he made his way to the access hatch around the back. He had a ritual around this time every evening; he’d climb to the top of the municipal building to watch the sunset. It was a way for him to relax and shed some of the stress of the day before going home, as well as a peaceful neutral ground he could go to reflect on things. Most days, his topic of choice was his reasons for dealing with the inanity he was subjecting himself to day in and day out. On most days those reasons all wound down to spite; he was determined to prove wrong everyone who’d ever said he would fail as a leader, and the only way to do that was to stick with it. So he came to the embrace of the tower and it’s seclusion to remind himself that, even with all the frustrations, the loneliness, and the bitterness-- it wasn’t about him.

Not really.

Not like _that._

So that night was different, and markedly so. That night, there was someone else on the tower’s roof when he boosted himself up past the ladder most grounders had to use to get to this level. Seeing the occasional flier perched there was not that strange; even Windblade would occasionally be up there for a sunset. As the tallest building currently standing on Cybertron, fliers tended to flock to it.  It wasn’t a flier sitting there, though; it was a despondent little grounder minibot who sat too close to the edge for his own good and didn’t seem to realize that someone _important_ had arrived. Starscream landed gracefully as ever and strutted forward, scanning his citizen databases for a name to match the frame as he went, coming up empty handed.

“Hey,” He said, clicking his fingers when the minibot didn’t seem to respond to his presence, like he was asleep or too preoccupied to notice his superiors. This close, he could make out the Autobot markers all over the minibot’s ident code. “This is government property.” He tried again, “ _Sightseers_ aren’t allowed up here.”

“Hn?” The blocky little thing finally responded, turning slightly to regard Starscream, “Oh… sorry. I was just…”

The way he trailed off suddenly, averting his gaze to the ground-- not the roof of the Citadel, but the _ground_ far below them-- as if in longing startled Starscream. He knew that look, those feelings. He took a step towards the minibot, then paused and crossed his arms over his cockpit.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, in New Iacon? At least, not recently?” Starscream asked haltingly, because it was the best he could come up with. The little mech kicked his legs against the edge of the building silently, and Starscream could just barely make out the motion of him shaking his head around the mass of his kibble. “Would you mind if I sat with you? I know I said sightseers aren’t allowed, but being a ruler has it’s perks.”

That comment seemed to get a reaction, and the little red-and-white grounder finally turned to regard Starscream fully. He hesitated a moment, his visor bright with something the flier couldn't be sure of, before he nodded, shrugged, and gestured to the ledge beside himself all at the same time. “Uh. Sure. Be my guest.”

Starscream stepped slowly across the roof, sitting down within arm’s reach of the smaller mech because, to be quite honest, he was not totally sure about the motivations of a ground-pounder for being up so high. He had certainly never seen it end well.  After a long stint of silence, watching as the little mech twisted his fingers up into uncomfortable knots and untwisted them just to re-twist them the opposite way, Starscream cleared his throat. “So,” He began, “I believe my reputation probably proceeds me and I don’t have to introduce myself, but what can I call you?”

“Uh, S-Swerve. My name, it’s--” the minibot swallowed, voice cracking, visor never leaving the the drop below them. “It’s Swerve.”

“Well, Swerve, have you ever seen one of the sunsets here, since Cybertron was reborn? Wheeljack tells me it has something to do with all the gasses being released into the atmosphere by the wild flora, but they’re especially beautiful nowadays. And, up here, we have a clear view to enjoy them.” Starscream supplied, then gestured toward where the sun began to dip below the curve of the horizon. Swerve shook his head, looking up slowly from the ground to take in the sight Starscream spoke of.

For a moment, he was still, seeming to take in all the details of the scene before him; the way the sun painted the sky and the ground in warm hues that filled spectrums visible and not, casting the cities below in a fiery glow from where it was descending behind the very peaks of the Manganese. After a long, slow moment, he rubbed his neck and let his face angle back towards the ground.  “I… never saw very many back before the war, either.”

Somehow, Starscream could feel it when suddenly Swerve’s optics were on him even though he didn’t turn to look at him-- and then, as if he was telling a secret, the minibot spoke in a soft voice, “I was… kind of planning to be gone before nightfall.”

“Yes, it can be rather perilous to climb back down in the dark. Would you like me to escort you?”

Starscream asked, watching the minibot warily now. Swerve just huffed a laugh, his shoulders rising and falling once.

“I wasn’t going to _climb.”_ He chuckled, though the sound was bitter. Starscream considered the other with a knit brow and heavy spark. That he did meant something had changed in him over some unknown period of time, all to culminate in that moment of weakness where he began to think in ways that said he couldn’t just leave the autobot to his plans. It was… _wrong._

“What has you so upset?” He asked the minibot softly, and again Swerve shook his head, worrying the inside of his lip in silence. Starscream sighed, because while he really couldn’t blame the autobot for not trusting the ex Second-in-Command of the Decepticons, he didn’t see how discretion mattered to him anymore if he just planned to kill himself. In the same instance, nearly, it struck him: _it still mattered_ because Swerve was having second thoughts.“You can tell me. I promise I won’t… do _whatever it is_ you’re afraid I’ll do.”

The grounder turned again to look at him, pulling a leg up and scooting back from the ledge just a bit. It took a moment for him to find any words, but when he did he turned his whole body so he could sit to face Starscream, and out of courtesy the seeker did the same.

“I was supposed to go with the Lost Light. I’m-- I’m _on_ the _roster._ I-I was on the ship the whole first stint of the trip and they just… just _left without me!_ I know Magnus was doing checks to make sure everyone was aboard, he-- he even made sure Megatron was accounted for! _Megatron!”_ Swerve cried, gesturing weakly and keeping his eyes averted from the seeker. Starscream couldn’t help but find that reasoning a little weak; people were forgotten all the time.

“So you’re going to kill yourself? Over _Rodimus’ crew,_ some _civilians,_ and an _aging decepticon warlord_ not realizing you’re aboard?” the jet asked, his voice purely curious. Swerve looked up at him and whatever was going to come next from his vocalizer was killed before he could say it. The minibot’s visor was bright and fritzed with something the seeker had felt on too many occasions to name-- _desperation._ He picked up a hand to touch the mostly stranger, this not-quite reflection of a past self, but Swerve scooted back to the ledge wordlessly, sniveling, before he could.

“You don’t _understand._ I run a _bar_ onboard, it’s the only damn thing to do between shore leaves. _Everyone_ goes there. My _only friends_ just quantum jumped to who-fraggin’-knows where and I got _Home Alone’_ d but I’m pretty sure it’s on purpose, and they’re not turning around to pick me up.” Swerve mumbled into his palm as he scrubbed at his face.

“Hey--” Starscream started, picking up both hands to try and placate the smaller mech, who’s blocky frame was wracked with quiet sobs. “Listen. If they would leave you like that, maybe…” the ruler hesitated, throwing another glance to the setting sun before he shrugged and let his hands pool in his lap. He worked his jaw, willing words to come, but he wasn’t sure if _he_ was the right person to be giving advice on friendship. He wasn’t sure if he was the right person to do this sort of thing at all, but he was the only person _there--_ so he knew it was time for him to step up.  “Maybe they weren’t very good friends to begin with.”

Swerve stared down at the people who moved through the amphitheater silently. It occurred to Starscream, in some insidious fashion, that this might have been some attempt to sabotage his rule; this minibot would fall to his death, and pictures of the seeker and the grounder would conveniently surface soon after in the hands of oppositional circles. He would have to answer to why this squat little autobot had suddenly died while having last been seen only moments before his death with Starscream in arm’s reach. The leader shunted those thoughts away, because he had already decided that Swerve wasn’t _going_ to be jumping. Even if he had to haul the clunky little grounder away from the ledge kicking and screaming.  He’ll be damned if he was going to let some Autobot sully the cleanest patch of sidewalk on the block on _his_ watch.

He clung to the excuses he made-- that this was for public relations, that he didn’t really _care_ \-- because he didn’t want to admit how much of himself he saw in the shorter mech. Especially when Swerve knotted up his fingers and lowered his helm again, and with a strangled chuckle like he was trying to play the whole thing off as some kind of _hilarious joke_ , cried softly, “ _But they were all I had!”_

Starscream stilled, his own helm angling downward as he stared at where his hands were still resting between his legs. He bit at his own lip in thought, faces flashing before his eyes, and he swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat, swinging his helm up to look back up to the sunset.

“Swerve…” he began after a moment and a few long ventilations. The minibot looked at him wearily. Starscream’s gaze lingered on the sun, which hung low in the darkening sky, before he blinked back down toward the ground then slid his optics over to meet Swerve’s flickering visor. “I’m maybe not the authority on friends, but you can make new ones. Better ones.  You have a whole city of possibility. You’re bound to find someone who likes you here…” He trailed off for a moment. “And to be honest, _I_ don’t hate you, which says a lot. I hate everyone.”

Swerve sort of snorted at that, and scooted away from the ledge, bringing his legs up to cross over one another in front of himself. “I kinda can’t believe any of that but, I mean, thank you for-- for trying to cheer me up.”

“Can’t believe-- what do you mean?” Starscream cocked his helm at Swerve, who gestured sort of flippantly with one hand, rubbing at a tear-streaked cheek with the other.

“First off, that you even _slightly_ like me--” he began with a weak smile, and Starscream, smiling himself, held up a digit.

“Don’t go getting ahead of yourself, autobot, I said I didn’t _hate you._ There’s a difference.”

This time Swerve’s laugh, however weak and short, was genuine and mirthy. Starscream’s smile turned into something fond as he watched the shorter mech scrub at his thighs in some sort of nervous gesture. “Also, that you’re not the authority on friends? You probably have tons of friends, I mean-- You’re the leader of Cybertron. You were second in command of the Decepticons and a senator before that. You gotta have friends like crazy.”

“Just because you’re in power doesn’t mean you’re in _friends.”_ Starscream droned bitterly, and Swerve averted his eyes, frowning and playing with his fingers again. Even Starscream could tell he’d somehow upset the blocky grounder, so he did his best to shrug off the feelings of bitterness and anger, and focus on what was important-- like keeping the bartender from deciding plummeting to his death was a good idea after all. Especially under _his_ watch. They sat together quietly as Starscream tried to figure out what to say next, and he watched as Swerve leaned forward over his own lap and braced his palms on the ledge to peer down at the drop again. After a moment he swallowed, and it was so loud the seeker could _hear it_ even over the distance between them. Starscream wasn’t sure if it was more alarming that it happened or that he cared.

“Big drop,” Swerve said after a second, and Starscream watched him fidget out of the corner of his optic. “Think it’d-- I mean-- I mean do you think it _will_ hurt?”

“Oh yes, quite a lot. In fact,” The seeker reached between them to rap on Swerve’s shoulder smartly, turning his head and nodding to the ground as the shorter mech recovered from his flinch. “I’m not even sure that drop would _kill you. Mangle_ you, perhaps, but dense armor like yours? I think you’d probably bounce. Snap axles, blow tires,  shatter windows, dent and bleed, yes… but I seriously doubt a fall this short could put you out of commission. If you had a more civilian frame, perhaps, I could certainly see this as a means of killing yourself.”

Swerve was silent and slack-jawed as he listened to the ruler lie to him about how bad of an idea he’d had, staring blank faced and pale as the descriptions inevitably gave way to his imagination running away with him. The look continued for a long moment after he’d finished, and by then it’d started to make Starscream doubt his ability as a manipulator. He knew what people want to hear and he was good at telling it to them, so in theory, he should be just as good at pandering to their fears.  The way Swerve watched him was unnerving enough to make him think that perhaps he’d missed a vital step somewhere and the pain _was_ what he’d been after. A few more soundless moments went by before Starscream couldn’t take it, and with his wings pitched high on his back, he waved a hand in front of the minibot’s face.

“Swerve? Did I _lose you?”_ He questioned warily, his motions snapping the other back to attention with a sudden distressed flare of his EMF. Starscream flinched away from the sudden onslaught of emotion where there’d previously been calm, before righting himself in time to catch the tail end of Swerve’s flinch.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, flicking his gaze down and then away, as if he was too embarrassed to properly look Starscream in the face. Once more, the seeker shrugged, picking at a rock stuck in the seam of his thruster. He could have made a bigger deal of the whole thing, but he honestly didn’t want to be the straw that broke the mechamel’s back.

“Really, it’s not that big of a problem.”

Once more, the pair descended into silence. Starscream leaned back against his palms and watched the sun make its final voyage beyond the summit of the mountains, now more than ever wishing he had another ten sunset’s time to think his actions through. The fact was that he didn’t; the little grounder was prepared to make his jump before the sun finished setting-- or rather, he didn’t plan on climbing back down the myriad ladders and stairs that circled the building in the dark. The only other way down was… _down,_ and Starscream had promised _himself_ that wasn’t happening.

“Swerve?” He said the other’s name before he could stop himself, and almost followed it with a curse. The minibot looked at him with weary optics behind a dim visor, and it was enough to affirm to Starscream that what he was doing was the right thing. “What if I said around now was  the time I start breaking out a thesaurus and an Anthology of Optimus Prime’s Greatest Hope-Inspiring Speeches?”

Swerve laughed like he had before: short and honest, and it made the seeker flick his wings because helping others like this usually made him feel so _weak_ that it was even worse that for once, he felt _good_ about helping someone.

“I’d love to see that.”

“Well, maybe I can indulge you.” Starscream said with a smirk, his optics lighting in the growing darkness of night, the sun nothing more than an ember where once there was an inferno. “Perhaps over a few drinks?”

The bartender outright snorted, and it was an annoying sort of endearing, but Starscream managed to hide his twitch. “Are you _hitting on me?_ ”

“And what if I am?”

“We just covered the fact that you didn’t like me not even a half hour ago?” Swerve pointed out, almost literally-- he was very gesture oriented, it seemed. “In fact, you said you only ‘don’t hate me’, and for _one_ , I’m not sure that’s a thing, and _two,_ that can change really easy where I’m involved.”

“I imagine so could not liking you. Change, that is.” Starscream countered, feeling rather proud of himself. He could preen later, he reminded himself; getting the minibot off the tower was what he was supposed to be focusing on.

For his part, Swerve spluttered and huffed and gnawed on his lip before finally submitting to Starscream’s idea-- only because getting hammered sounded really, _really_ good. Starscream stood and offered him a servo, helping him haul himself to his pedes, and by the twinkling light of the stars the two made their way back down to the ground.

 

* * *

* * *

 

It didn’t occur to Starscream until they were both half-drunk-- maybe a little more than half on Swerve’s part-- and locked in his tower home outside the walls of Metroplex-- that Swerve was sort of worse off than he originally thought. Thankfully the guy was a happy drunk, one of the silliest he’d ever met, and for the past hour as they’d worked through their first, second, and then half of their third bottle of the cheapest local quad-filter engex Starscream could keep himself stocked with,  he had been stumbling and giggling his way through telling jokes. The trouble with this was that Swerve seemed to be totally incapable of not laughing at his own jokes (at least while he was drunk), so he hadn’t really told a whole joke yet. The situation left Starscream flustered and uneasy, and not because the dumb autobot wouldn’t finish a joke and he was secretly a junky for them or something--

But because about five minutes ago he had very nearly offered the autobot an honest compliment in the form of calling him _cute._ Something in his mind had whispered the word conspiratorily to him, and he very nearly _voiced the thought._  It was blasphemous. It was _high fragging treason._ Starscream needed nobody and wanted nothing, yet there he was, sitting on the floor of his tiny kitchenette with his unlikely guest whom his mind refused to label as anything but _cute_ and other variations of the word, getting drunk on something much too weak for his taste.  For the fifth time in as many minutes he angled his wrist to peer at the back of the bottle, checking the strength of what they were drinking. He squinted at the label, because the only clear reason his face had to burn every time Swerve tilted his helm back against the cold compartment and his shoulders shook with silent laughter was from a buzz he didn’t feel elsewhere.

The minibot tried to explain his way through an earth joke about ‘worms’, already cracking up, and Starscream took the time to try and think of good ways to ask Swerve important questions. Ways that wouldn’t ruin his buzz and make him sad again, because happy Swerve was definitely the ~~cutest~~ _most agreeable_ Swerve that Starscream had seen all night, even if he couldn’t seem to keep all his booze in his mouth whenever he took a sip. A little engex ran down his lip, his chin, and into the cabling of his neck, and Starscream knew from experience that it would get sticky and annoying at best, itchy and painful at worst. Humming an affirmative note to let the other know he was still listening (because he _was_ , even if he gave up trying to understand the ~~cute~~ _bartender_ three jokes in) he rose to his knees and turned, wetting a soft cloth from his subspace in the sink to offer the other for his face and neck.

In the meantime, Swerve did what Starscream, in his booze-addled, processor numbed state of mind had dubbed _the_ ~~_cute_~~ _thing._ He threw back his helm, cradled his face with whatever servo wasn’t filled with a glass, and shook with wheezing, silent laughter. Starscream turned in time to catch just the tail end of it, where the minibot groaned against his knees and laughed ~~cutely~~ _raggedly_ to himself while his engex-soaked mind struggled to come up with another joke to tell. The seekers motions caught his optic however, and he perked up with a wobbly smile.

“Here,” Starscream said, trying to keep his words clipped to prove to himself that these _thoughts_ were the beginnings of his buzz, and he wasn’t suddenly goo-goo opticed over a nobody Autobot grounder he’d known for less than six hours. Swerve took the cloth and stared at it’s damp surface uncomprehendingly for a few moments before Starscream sighed, gesturing at his own face. “You have engex all over-- here. Give it back, _I’ll_ do it.”

Swerve obeyed, and Starscream, muttering to himself about having to do something yourself if you wanted it done right, laid a clawed servo on Swerve’s helm beneath his cowling and began to gently scour at the already sticking engex. Swerve tried to focus on Starscream’s servo, and this close he could hear the minibot’s optics clicking in and out of dilation. It somehow only further impressed to Starscream that there were things he needed to know about the Bartender. Did he have a job? Anywhere to go? Anyone to stay with? If Starscream hadn’t been there and Swerve _had_ jumped, would anyone have been called to identify the body?

By the time he finished gently swiping the mess out of Swerve’s neck, he was ready to ask. He had a plan. He’d worked out vocabulary to work around and tones to avoid. He glanced up to meet Swerve’s optics to begin, and that’s when he noticed the little red grounder had fallen into recharge on him.

Well, _that_ was a fine how-do-you-do. He hadn’t even been thanked for cleaning up the minibot’s mess! Or saving his life!

Then again, it didn’t exactly seem to Starscream like Swerve was the most dead set (Starscream flinched-- bad choice of words.) of people. He probably had to talk himself up to even trying, and then talk himself out of backing out several times while Starscream was there. Starscream frowned, and pulled his servo away from the minibot’s helm gently. He wouldn’t be getting the squarish little grounder anywhere like this, anyway, so it seemed the best he could do was allow the bartender to crash (another flinch, because that wasn’t the best word either) on his couch.

His interrogation could come tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Jayus  
> Indonesian -- "A Joke so poorly told and so unfunny that one cannot help but laugh."
> 
> If you're reading this, I would like to sincerely thank you for reading. I can't guarantee that this fanfiction is going to be very good or consistent, but it's mine and it's important to me, so you have my thanks for getting this far.


End file.
